Deep Black

60

Kids screamed. Dogs barked. My legs weren’t moving as fast as my head wanted them to. It felt as if I was running in mud.

People peered from their windows and shouted when they spotted me. ‘American! American!’ A couple of women started the Red Indian warble.

There were a couple of long bursts from near the vehicle as I ran down a narrow alley between two tall breezeblock walls. Arab screams echoed behind me. A burst water main had left the ground slimy and I lost my footing. I stumbled over a pile of rotting garbage and fell face down. Scrambling on all fours to move forwards and get up, I saw headlights moving back and forth about seventy metres ahead. All I wanted to do was get there and turn, it didn’t matter which way – anything to get out of the line of sight and fire.

I kept running, not bothering to look back. My feet kicked old cans and newspapers. My hands were stinging like I’d fallen into a nettle bed.

I stopped about two metres short of the road, and had a quick check left and right. A few pedestrians hovered on the dark pavements. Some shops and houses had electricity, others just a flicker of candlelight.

I was covered in Rob’s blood. My hands were soaked with it; shards of glass were sticking to it. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to regain my breath.

There was a junction about twenty metres down. I stepped out of the alley and started along the pavement, concentrating hard on the weeds growing in the cracks between the paving-stones, keeping myself in the shadows.

A couple of people spotted me immediately and pointed. Somebody behind me shouted. I ignored it and kept going. All I wanted to do was get level with the junction and run across the road. They shouted again, this time more distinctly. ‘Hey, you! Stop! Stop!’

I turned my head but kept moving. A Hummer patrol was parked on the same road, just too far up for me to be seen from the alley. With them were some Iraqi police, standing next to a new blue and white, carrying AKs.

The patrol challenged me again: ‘Stop!’ The police joined in, in Arabic. I looked to my half right and spotted an alleyway. I crossed the road and broke into a run.

‘You – fucking stop! Stop!’

The Hummers and police revved up and started rolling. I reached the other side of the road and was into the alleyway. My mouth was dry and I fought for breath. Sweat diluted the blood on my face and hands. There were rough breezeblock walls either side of me again, only this time closer together. Light streamed through the shutters. I kept running as police sirens wailed behind me.

The blow to my throat was so swift and hard I didn’t see who’d delivered it.

I lay on my back, gasping for breath, trying to get my Adam’s apple moving as I listened to vehicles shrieking to a halt and pissed-off shouts coming from a house to my left, now in darkness.

American voices joined in, screaming at each other: ‘Where the fuck is he? Let’s go, let’s go!’

As I pulled myself on to my hands and knees, I realized I’d run straight into a cable stretched between two buildings. The fuckers were getting their kettles on.

I got up and ran, stooped. I tried to suck in air but my Adam’s apple was still glued to the back of my throat.

A powerful torch beam swept the alley. I hugged the wall to the right, crouching among piles of garbage and old mattresses.